Amnesia
by woopiedoo-7
Summary: The time has come to change Bella into a vampire. As the anticipation runs high, each Cullen tries to deal with the implications of the change, each one finding themselves way over their heads. At the heart of it - three words that changed everything.
1. Anticipation

My hands were firmly clenched on the steering wheel as I drove. I wasn't really concentrating on the road in front of me; my thoughts were elsewhere. Bella sat in the seat next to me, unmoving and silent. I longed to know what she was thinking, the reason for her animosity towards me.

No, I was wrong. In actual fact, the reason behind her anger was known to both of us, and had been for quite some time now. The mutual decision to not speak of this reason was never uttered, and trying on both of our sanities. I hated having Bella be so angry with me, and I knew she did not like the feeling either.

I had to say something. I glanced to my right, noting her pursed lips and crossed arms. I sighed wearily, though it was physically impossible.

"Why are you making that face?" I asked quietly. I'd said the first thing to come to my mind, and yet it was the worst thing. My hopeless attempt to make conversation had crossed the boundaries that should not be crossed; we both acknowledged this without utterance also. I'd spoken the unspeakable, and now I was going to pay for it.

"You know why," Bella replied coldly, turning her head to look at me. Her deep, chocolate eyes were now filled with irritation and frustration, and I felt my stomach churn as I remembered that _I _was the reason for it.

But, as long as the taboo was no longer in place, I decided to continue; regardless of Bella's mood, the subject was long overdue for conference.

"Bella, we've been over this," I said through a sigh. It was true; the conversation had been spoken so many times I could recite it from memory. "I'm not going to change you unless we're married and you know what you're getting into."

Bella was further irritated, as expected. I clenched my teeth and waited.

She held up her left hand.

"What is this, then, Edward?" She flexed her fingers, drawing attention the sparkling diamonds embedded in the gold wedding band.

I sighed. I'd let her have that.

"Yes, I know we're already engaged, Bella, but that doesn't mean we can just dismiss everything else. Like the fact that you'd be giving up your _mortality _for me, which is something I can't bear."

"_I _can dismiss it. Just because you can't stand the thought of me being a vampire, together with you forever, doesn't mean that–"

She stopped short and folded her arms, staring out the windshield of the now immobile car. We'd arrived at Bella's house, but neither was inclined to say our goodbyes. Bella's lips had pursed again, and even though she was clearly trying to remain expressionless and stoic, I could see the emotion quivering beneath the surface.

I reached out silently to touch her face with one hand, stroking her cheek in circles with my thumb. Bella's eyes closed at my touch.

"You really believe that's what I think?" I asked softly. Bella didn't answer. I sighed and took her face in mine, making her look at me. She was close to tears.

"I know I promised you, Bella. I'm not going to go back on that. You _will _become a vampire, one way or another; I just don't think that _now _is the right time to–"

"_Now _is a perfect time," Bella interjected. She was evidently trying to hold back tears. "I want this, Edward. It's all I want. To be with you, forever – that's all I want."

I let her take my hands away from her face and hold them in both of hers. Slowly, she bent her head and laid a single, gentle kiss on both of them. I reveled in the warmth of her touch, which I could already feel resonating in my cold, marble skin. I kept my eyes on her bent head, considering her words. There was no escaping it, I realized. I _did _promise her, and if I didn't do it then I knew Carlisle would. And she had agreed to marry me, abided by my terms. It was inevitable.

"Okay," I whispered, so softly I thought she might not have heard me. But her head rose immediately, and a radiant smile spread across her face as she stared at me.

"You mean it?" she breathed.

I couldn't believe I was saying it. "Yes."

Bella exhaled sharply, her grin spreading wider. In spite of myself, I smiled too.

"Thankyou," she gasped happily. I didn't respond.

After a few more minutes Bella got out of the car into the drizzle, and I promised to meet her again after Charlie had fallen asleep. She bounced her way to the front door, evidently happier now that I'd agreed to changer her into a vampire. I sighed and felt the full weight of what was going to happen in two day's time press down on me. I almost considered going after Bella and changing my mind, telling her that the deal was off; but I couldn't do that. It was going to happen one way or another – even Alice had seen it. And it wasn't as if we could delay it further, as the Volturi wouldn't hesitate to kill her if they found out she was still human.

I sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that night, and backed out of the driveway fluidly, pressing my foot further on the accelerator as I sped home. As I drove I felt the reality that I was so desperately trying to break away from, force its way back into my mind with crushing assuredness. I couldn't escape the inevitable.

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**2 DAYS LATER**

The tension was palpable inside the living room of my house. All my family and Bella were preparing, in their own way, for the change, and we were not handling it well. Rosalie had already broken a vase and left a dent in Emmett's Jeep due to her evident anger at Bella becoming a vampire. Emmett had pursued her after she'd run off, his patience tested as he tried to calm his irate wife. Esme was busy making sure that Bella was comfortable on one of the couches where the change was to take place, making sure she was wearing loose clothing and all the rest of it; her frantic movements about the house didn't soothe anyone else. Jasper was in the kitchen, his head in his hands as he tried to prepare himself for the wave of emotions that would no doubt crash over him during the three, agonising days. Alice was helping him, desperately trying to get a vision to see if he would be okay.

And I had to deal with all of their thoughts.

But perhaps the worst of them all was Bella. She was completely silent, sitting completely still on the couch and staring into space. I longed to read her thoughts, know what was troubling her – although I could probably guess from the look on her face. The only one who wasn't losing control, I noticed, was Carlisle. He'd finished going over the change with Bella, and made sure she knew what she was getting into. His calmness and rationality was practically radiating off him in waves. I couldn't understand how he could be so serene about this. Unfortunately, however, it seemed as though none of Carlisle's tranquillity had rubbed off on Bella. She was still stoic as ever. I made my way over, sitting next to her and scrutinizing her emotionless face. She didn't respond to my presence.

"What's wrong, Bella?" I asked softly, brushing the hair back over her shoulder. I couldn't be certain, but I would swear her face turned an even whiter pale.

I took another chance.

"Bella," I tried again, placing a hand on her shoulder, "is everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't everything be okay? Of course it is."

Bella shocked me with her sudden outburst. It was abrupt, almost cold; and I couldn't think of a reason for it. Perhaps it was nerves.

"You're going to be fine, Bella. There's nothing to worry about," I said, lying through my teeth. How was I to know whether she'd be alright? I didn't, and it scared me.

Bella finally looked at me, her eyes narrowed and fearful.

"How do you know that?" she whispered, her lip trembling. "You have no idea if I'll survive, if there won't be implications in the future. Even Alice doesn't know!"

I couldn't respond. What she was saying was right, of course, but I couldn't encourage her with this negative thinking. Even if it meant I had to lie to her, I couldn't let her go on thinking she was doomed.

"Bella, everything is going to be fine. You still want this, don't you?" I took one of her hands with my free one.

"Of course I still want this. But...Carlisle said himself there could be implications." Her eyes tightened and she stared hard at my face, her expression unreadable. I stared right back, wondering what she was doing – and then I understood.

"Bella," I sighed, closing my eyes, "you're _not _going to lose your memory." It was almost painful to say. I had absolutely no idea what was going to happen to her, and yet I was still giving her empty promises.

"You don't know that."

I couldn't lie to her anymore.

"You're right, Bella; I don't. But I–"

"Edward."

I turned at the sound of my name, frustrated. My one chance to give Bella some sort of hope that she wasn't completely doomed, taken away! I faced the irritant with narrow eyes.

Rosalie didn't flinch at my expression. "Edward, it's time. It can't wait any longer."

She turned without even acknowledging Bella at all and stalked off, returning to Emmett. I looked back to Bella and opened my mouth to speak, but her fingers were already slipping out of my grasp as she stood up to leave. I called after her, determined to convince her that she would be fine – but she didn't look back. Defeated, I got to my feet and followed her.

Carlisle was talking to Bella, going over everything once more before the fateful moment, but from where I was standing it didn't look like Bella was listening. Her thoughts were no doubt elsewhere. I could only imagine what was running through her mind right now. I wanted to go over and comfort her, but it seemed the conversation had finished; Carlisle was coming towards me now, his marble features unreadable.

"Are you sure you still want to do this, Edward?" he asked, concern in his eyes. "You know I can always take your place if it becomes too much for you."

I shook my head.

"No, I promised Bella I would change her. I have to do it." My own words condemned me.

Carlisle patted me on the shoulder and said, "You'll be fine, Edward."

I didn't quite believe him.

He walked back to Bella and laid a hand on her back, motioning for her to follow him. She only slightly responded, allowing herself to be led to the place where she would be changed. It was now that I noticed the room was empty; everyone else was already there, waiting. Sighing, I followed.

When I entered the room I found all of my family – excluding Carlisle – standing around the edges of the room, all with grave expressions. And, if I wasn't mistaken; fearful expressions. I couldn't believe I'd found anyone more scared than Bella at this moment, but it seemed my entire family was. They all seemed to be under strict instructions to stay as far away as possible from Bella. Jasper, in particular, couldn't even look at her. Already I could see his face contorting into looks of anguish, his muscles tightening and relaxing as he took wave after wave of every emotion in the room – and the change hadn't even started yet. I could sense he was trying to spread calm throughout the room, but his efforts weren't felt anywhere past Alice, who was standing with him and clutching his arm. Feeling my sense of dread threaten to overwhelm me, I looked away from his face and focused on Bella, who was lying on the centred couch, trembling.

I made my way over to her, kneeling on the floor so that we were at eye level. She stared at me, her brown eyes wide and fearful as she waited for the inevitable. Carlisle, I noticed, was fixing things up behind me, and now stood up and joined Esme at the edge of the room, patting my shoulder as he passed me. The gesture didn't feel comforting. I looked away from Bella's eyes and at my family. They were all staring at me, silently anticipating their own fears. I returned to Bella and saw that her expression had changed slightly; her eyes now held trust.

Trust in me, I now realised, was short lived. Bella was soon going to find out that all the faith she had in me was utterly useless, because we both knew, without ever saying it aloud, that I wasn't going to be able to stop once I tasted her blood. I could envision it now: my teeth, sinking easily into her neck and the warm fluid gushing into my mouth. I would drink. And drink, and drink and drink, until I realised the time to push my venom back into her bloodstream had come and gone. And Bella would lay there, an empty shell, the ghost of trust still flickering in her eyes.

Thinking of this, I almost pulled out. I came so very close to telling Bella that I just couldn't change her, that I would kill her. I wondered why Bella herself hadn't protested – after all, we both knew full well the risks if she let me bite her. But Bella made no objection. She still lay there, unmoving as she waited for me to change her. I groaned mentally, remembering just how inescapable the inevitable was. All that remained now was anticipation.

I anticipated her blood and the way it would taste, the way it would feel flowing into my mouth, rushing down my throat as I swallowed mouthful after mouthful. I imagined a sweet wine, delectable ambrosia that would play upon my tongue and arouse my senses. Just as the anticipation became unbearable, the fierce objection to damn my love intruded. The desire to taste her blood, and the will to not raged on inside me, until it became so insufferable that I had to say something. I had to stall.

"Are you still sure you want this, Bella? Last chance to back out," I whispered, my voice strained. Bella's eyes widened further, and I could see the strength of her resolve.

"Yes," she whispered back.

I nodded and held my breath. The waiting was over. I raised myself up and held her hand in one of mine, bracing her neck with my other. Bella's breath hitched as my hand touched the vulnerable skin of her neck; I wanted to apologise, but found I couldn't speak. My lips dropped to her throat, brushing delicately against her supple flesh, and the anticipation rose.

Softly, I whispered I loved her – and then bit down.


	2. Day 1: Fire

I remembered fragments of my human life, flashes of events that had brought me great happiness. I remembered my fifteenth birthday, when I had unwrapped the vintage train set from my parents, shrieking with delight and dashing to play with it immediately; I had been inseparable from it for a year, until it finally broke due to overuse. I remember when the war had started, and a curious elation had struck me when I realised that I could go to war and fight for my country. The buoyant feeling had begun in my stomach, ballooning outwards and spreading warmth throughout my insides, continuing until it reached the very ends of my fingers and toes, made my hair stand on end and my knees wobbly. But nothing, _nothing, _would ever compare to the feeling I had coursing through me right now.

As soon as my teeth had sunk into Bella's neck, all feelings of anxiety and panic had diminished completely. My posture had slackened as, with great urgency, I'd closed my mouth over the bite and began to drink. In place of the anxious and panicked emotions was now unbelievable, ethereal exultation.

Her blood tasted nothing like my fantasies. There was no succulent wine, no palatable ambrosia – no delightful nectar that played upon my tongue and felt pleasant once it travelled down my throat, akin to a certain liquor or drug.

It was _better. _

No words could properly describe the complete explosion of sensations after that first mouthful of Bella's blood. My mouth burned slightly, as if I'd just taken something very bitter – but that feeling soon went away. I could hardly believe that I was drinking her blood, drinking more and more of it until I thought I would explode. I had fantasised about this moment for long enough.

My grip on Bella's free hand tightened, as I sucked Bella's blood with greater ardency. It was strange how all other emotions; all other thoughts were blocked out as I drank. The possibility that I might be hurting Bella due to my firm grip didn't even cross my mind – her blood was the only thing that interested me. How could anything else matter right now, when I was doing the one thing I hadn't done since I'd first become a vampire? This was _human _blood – _Bella's _blood. I'd never taken the privilege of drinking human blood for granted, but tasting it now, I might as well have. It was exponentially better than animal blood, and it wasn't just because it was Bella's blood. With every mouthful that I swallowed, I felt strength course through me, rejuvenating me and all the human elements I'd lost during the change all those years ago. Human blood was pure and addictive and _so very_ satisfying. Blood was life.

It occurred to me during this whirlwind of sensations that I should stop. I didn't know how much of her blood I'd drank, but I could sense that if I didn't stop soon, I'd miss my chance to push the venom back into her bloodstream and Bella would die. And, as much as I loved drinking her blood, I would never let her die because of it. Faintly, I could hear Carlisle's anxious pleas for me to stop and begin the change. Come on, Edward. You can do it. Bella's going to give out soon; you've got to do it now. Stop drinking, Edward. Bella's counting on you...

She _was _counting on me, I realised. Bella had sacrificed everything for me, done all that I'd asked her to do; gone were all of her human opportunities in life, her family, her friends – everything. She'd given up her _mortality _for me. And now I was going to kill her, all because I didn't have the resolve strong enough to stop drinking her blood. It occurred to me just how pathetic I was for not being able to do one, little thing, and then the image of Bella, lying there, her eyes filled with trust flashed into my mind. Those deep, brown irises, resonating with conviction and resolve – they remained etched into my mind. Suddenly, Bella's blood wasn't so appealing anymore. It felt dirty and sinful, like I'd been ingesting some astringent poison this whole time. Disgusted with myself, and with Bella's trust-filled eyes fresh in my mind, fuelling my resolve, I stopped drinking.

The other part of me – the animalistic, stubborn one – protested, and I almost began drinking again. Venom had pooled in my mouth, and I had an overwhelming urge to swallow it down and resume feeding. But I remembered that Bella was counting on me, that I simply could not kill her – so I pushed the slowly receding venom back into Bella's bloodstream, and pulled away.

Without exactly knowing why, as soon as I'd broken away from Bella I scrambled away on my hands and knees, crawling towards the wall opposite Bella. I sat against it, hugging my knees with one arm, and putting a clenched fist in front of my mouth with the other. My body shook, and I didn't know why. The room spun slightly, and even the faces of my family were out of focus. Every tiny sound resonated in my ears, as if my super-hearing had been amplified even further. I couldn't understand why my body was reacting so severely once Bella's blood had been taken away from me. It was as if I was a drug addict, going through severe withdrawal as I stupidly tried to quit cold-turkey.

It wasn't long before Carlisle came towards me, grasping my shoulders tightly.

"Edward? Are you all right?"

I couldn't respond; the ringing in my ears and the shaking in my body was too severe. I clenched my eyes shut and tried to control myself, quell the shaking and the dizziness. I didn't open them until I'd stopped.

But once I did and saw the spectacle in front of me, I wished I'd kept them closed.

Bella was screaming and thrashing, clawing at the couch with her fingernails. Her back arched and her veins were prominent against her pale skin. Sudden, violent tremors shuddered down her spine every so often, and her hands clenched tighter around the sides of the couch whenever this occurred. She didn't have to say anything for me to know that she was in extreme pain.

Carlisle stood beside me, looking, not at Bella, but at me – monitoring my reactions. Already I could see the worry lines creasing his forehead, looking so out of place on his boyish face. He sent me some comforting thoughts, but I only vaguely registered them. Esme, I noticed, was looking at Bella with the same lines on her face as Carlisle, her hand pressed to her mouth in concern. Emmett was standing opposite Esme, staring into space with his arms tense by his sides. Rosalie wasn't even in the room.

I heard another scream then, but it wasn't Bella's. I craned my neck to see over the sofa and saw Jasper with his hands buried in his hair, seizing tufts of it as if to rip it out. His eyes bulged and the tendons in his neck protruded severely. He looked as though he would combust at any moment. My vision moved over slightly, and I noticed Alice's tiny hands on Jasper's leg, squeezing tightly as she, too, tried to contain her own emotions. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her jaw was rigid. I could tell she was in just as much pain as Jasper was.

"Fire...f-fire..."

I tore my eyes away from my siblings at the sound of Bella's voice. It was so soft, so frail that I thought I might've imagined it – but I could see Bella's lips moving slightly as she struggled to speak through the pain.

"Fire..."

Shakily, I got to my feet and went to Bella's side, kneeling beside her as I had not ten minutes ago. I could feel the creases slowly marring my own forehead, akin to those of my anxious parents. I examined her body, noticing the crescent-shaped marks where her fingernails had dug into her skin; thankfully, they hadn't drawn blood. She was still screaming, though now it was in short, abrupt bursts. For the most part, she made strange gargling sounds in the back of her throat and strained whimpers and grunts. Her body still shook violently, and her back was still arched towards the ceiling tensely.

Finally, Bella opened her eyes. I felt the wrinkles in my forehead deepen as I took in her expression – absolute, overwhelming _agony. _She glimpsed the look on my face and I could see the terror in her eyes. Slowly, jerkily, she pressed a clammy hand to my face and I felt a shudder go through me as I felt the warmth – no, the _burn _– of her skin.

I could feel pressure on my cheek, and I realised quickly that Bella was trying to draw my face down to her level. I obliged, and, for the first time, heard the anguish in her voice as she whispered, yet again:

"Fire..."

I, of course, knew what she meant by "fire". The venom spreading throughout her bloodstream right now was taking over her body, transforming it until she was human no longer – no doubt painfully.

"F-Fire...Edward it b-burns...burning, E-Edward..."

The pressure on my cheek heightened, and I cringed in agony when I realised that I could do nothing to help Bella now.

"I know it burns, sweetheart," I whispered, my lips as close to her ear as possible, "but it'll go away soon. I promise."

_Soon. _I kicked myself at my choice of words. How could I have said that? The pain wasn't going to go away for another two days, and I'd just told her it would stop _soon_. I sighed at my own stupidity, but Bella didn't seem to care about my choice of words. She moved her hand across my cheek in a sort of half-caress, but soon dropped it back to the couch, gripping it as she screamed in another bout of pain.

There was nothing more I could do for her now. I crawled back to the wall, resuming my previous position and watching Bella with tight eyes. After a while, I heard Jasper cry out in anguish again and saw him seize even more of his hair, rocking back and forth on his chair. It wasn't long before his screams drowned out Bella's, and he collapsed to the floor, unable to take the torment. Alice remained in her seat, her eyes closed and her head towards the ceiling, as if praying to the heavens for strength. I watched them miserably.

Hours (I hadn't been keeping track of how many) passed, and Bella and Jasper's screaming had become nothing but a constant ringing in my ears, a trouble in the background that I longed to get rid of, but didn't know how. I'd remained immobile against the wall, one fist in front of my mouth again and my entire body rigid. Sometimes I shook, other times I gave a half-grunt, half-whimper when Bella's screaming reached piercing levels. I didn't take my eyes off her writhing form once.

My parents had ceased sending me comforting thoughts, as I'm sure they presumed it didn't help at all. And, they were right. I didn't even register their words, let alone respond to them. Their voices were nothing more than another blur of sound in the back of my mind that I automatically blocked out to make room for Bella's screams. It was as if I_ needed_ to hear her, even though it caused me great pain when I did – for if I didn't then it would prove that what was happening around me wasn't real, only imaginary. All the comforting voices of my parents, the anguished cries of my brother; they would be non-existent, figments of some unknown realm – and what would that make me? – A hundred-or-so year old vampire, alone in another world, never to have met anyone like Isabella Swan. And I simply could not take that.

So I sat there, a silent statue, listening to Bella scream and cry and moan, watching her claw at her skin, her hair, and rip the couch apart. I never looked away; I never even blinked. Day soon turned into night, and Bella's screaming hadn't stopped once. I faintly registered the fact that there was still two more days left of this, but wasn't surprised when I realised that it didn't bother me.

It was nearing the twentieth hour when, after having not heard it for five hours, I heard Bella's strident cry once more:

"Fire!"

Whether or not that one word had triggered it, I felt my body tense even further, as, with a pathetic grunt, I started shaking again.


	3. Day 2: Ice

It had begun at my neck and spread out slowly, blazing a trail through my heart, my chest and arms, stomach and feet. Only a small prickling sensation at first, it had quickly increased to the feeling of thousands of sharp knives stabbing at my insides, fighting to break through its fleshy prisons and be free, until it finally felt as if I was being burnt alive on top of a slow burning fire. I'd wanted to scream and realised that I could, but for some reason my mouth did not move. I'd heard the scream – so bloodcurdling and so unlike myself – but I couldn't feel my mouth moving; as if it had been immobile the entire time. I didn't have time to dwell on this, though – at the same moment a sharp, stinging pain – like someone was reaching into me and trying to rip out my heart – shot through my spine, crawling up to my heart and setting my whole chest alight. I screamed again, my mouth still unmoving yet the bellows still perfectly audible, and before I knew it my back was arched, and my fingernails were clawing at the object underneath me. This, too, I didn't register. One second I was laying flat, feeling the excruciating pain going through me – the next, I was elevated to the point that I thought my back would break. There was no period of time between these occurrences, not even a second. It was instantaneous.

Or perhaps I simply didn't remember the time in between.

That would certainly be a plausible explanation as to what was happening to me right now. After all, how could such things have happened without my knowledge of them? No, there had to have been time in between. It was impossible to be anything otherwise.

A thousand questions ran through my mind, and the more I tried to answer them, the more confusing they became. I screamed again as a new pain, a more agonizing one, hit me. It originated in my throat without warning, an unbearable burning that felt as if it was trying to crawl up my windpipe and escape through my mouth. And then, another sensation – a curious, tingling one, yet still as fierce – began where the burning had, overwhelming me like waves of an ocean. Suddenly, ever fibre of my being was alert and sensitive, set alight by this curious prickling. It was like hunger, but when I thought of food I instantly felt repulsed. Confused as ever, I desperately tried to understand what it was my body wanted. It turned into thirst, then. My whole throat was on fire, scorching and parched, as if I hadn't drunk anything for weeks. Again, when I tried to think of things that would quench this overwhelming thirst, I was disgusted. My body was repelling the one thing it needed! My mind swam with even more questions.

I heard a scream – sudden, shrill – but it sounded muffled, as if it was coming from a distance. I struggled to put a name to it, but I couldn't think properly through the pain. Perhaps it was Edward's...

_Edward. _As soon as the name had entered my mind, I felt another pang, but not a pain that stung my insides and set my heart on fire, like the current one was. It was a _longing_.

I was about to yell his name, call him to my side and comfort me, hoping that he would be able to quell the pain, but at that moment an agony, more fierce than anything else I'd experienced of yet – a pain far, far worse than the burning in my throat or the stabbing at my skin. It was behind my eyes, like someone had reached into my skull and was clawing away at my sockets, fighting to break through. It was unbearable. And, just when I thought I was going to drift into insanity, another instantaneous noise, a whisper, escaped my throat; my back arched and my fingers clawed at the thing underneath me once again, and it was too late that I felt the word slide over my lips, unfamiliar and disturbing:

"Fire..."

The word faded into nothingness, and I screamed again. This time, I could feel a pair of hands scratching fiercely at my scalp, my hair – it was over too soon before I realised that they were my hands. Again, I heard noises; muffled, distant, but definitely there. The sounds were coming closer, and I could just make out the rapid footfalls of someone walking towards me. The person drew nearer and nearer, until I could sense them inches away from me, possibly next to me on the floor – or wherever I was.

Then, in another burst of pain, I felt the fire spreading through my face, as if under my skin, until I felt it break through my nostrils, hot and burning. And, once the fire had subsided for a while, it was as if my sinuses had been cleared. I could _smell. _

And I smelt him, then. Edward was beside me, the delicious scent of his skin that I remembered so vividly, wafting through the air and arousing my senses in a way I never knew possible.

It was now that I noticed my eyes were still closed. I opened them and I knew I could move them about – in the same instantaneous bursts that everything else occurred in – but all I could see was blackness. There were no real images, no faces or furniture or animals or anything – just black. I added this to my list of confusions. Had I gone blind? Maybe that was what the pain was doing, getting right of my sight. But then, if that was the case, how could I explain the instantaneous movements?

I didn't like this inability to see. It scared me, like nothing ever had before. The pain I could handle, as confusing and disturbing as it was, but my sight I could not go without. I felt wrinkles crease my forehead, my brain registering the action with the same lagging reflexes as before, and I knew without having to be told that my eyes were filled with terror. Slowly, shakily, I stretched a hand out and tried to feel for his face, his hand, his arm – anything. A shock wave went through my body when I touched his face – his cheek? – and I immediately scrabbled at his skin with my fingers, the movements jerky because of the pain that was surging through me. His skin felt cool, like he'd been submerging them in a bucket of ice for hours, or camping out in the middle of a snowstorm; it felt soothing. It was literally as if the fire was being put out by the cool of Edward's skin.

I wanted more, but I could think of no way to tell him without being interrupted by fiery anguish; desperately, I applied the slightest pressure on Edward's face, trying to draw him down to my level so that he could soothe the burning on my face – my eyes, my nose, my lips. But once he was closer, all I could choke out was that one word, that barely audible whisper of despair:

"Fire..."

Obviously, Edward didn't understand. I groaned, half from the pain, half in despair, and shuddered as flames exploded in my chest again. I wanted him to understand. Miraculously, I was able to form words – albeit, in gasps – that I hoped he would interpret correctly.

"F-Fire...Edward it b-burns...burning, E-Edward..."

But the only thing that remained cool was my hand on his cheek. Feeling as though the whit-hot pokers stabbing at my skin were going to burst through at any moment, and more desperate than ever, I applied more pressure on his cheek, trying to draw him closer to me and deliver relief.

To my surprise, I heard his velvet voice in my ear, sudden and close. It was muffled slightly, like everything else that I heard was, but I was able to make it out.

"I know it burns, sweetheart, but it'll go away soon. I promise."

I wanted to cry, but somehow the flames had made my tear ducts dry as well. He didn't understand at all. I tried to tell him again, explain it in a different way, but as soon as I opened my mouth another horrid scream escaped, and I felt the fibres of the thing underneath me catching onto my nails as they scraped along it. Too soon, _too soon_, I felt Edward leave my side, his scent drifting away like the tide. The flames licked at my skin and I gave a pathetic whimper as the darkness that hindered my sight became ever more encompassing. With a pang of nostalgia, I screamed the four letter word once more.

_____________________________**************____________________________

I didn't know how many hours had passed. It might have been days. For the reality was, that time and rational thought, speech, movement – it had all become one frightening, surreal blur. I no longer knew how long I had been screaming for, or for how long the fire had been burning me – all I knew now, was that I was in extreme pain.

Sometimes I heard others screaming, and as time went on their voices became less muffled and more clear, as if they were standing right next to me. Everything else had worsened, rather than improved. The fire and the stabbing had intensified, I still could not keep coherent speech for longer than thirty seconds, and the darkness clouding my sight had not lifted. I could sense changes happening to my body, as well; my heart especially. It was as if it was _hardening, _like a rock, and I could hear my heartbeats slowing down, faltering as the blood seemed to cease flowing through my body. It was a strange feeling, akin to fatigue but with all the volatility of a barrage of bullets being fired at the body at close range. And the strangest thing was, was that I couldn't control it. Every time I willed my body to stop the bizarre revolt it was launching upon itself, the agony only strengthened, as if it was disobeying on purpose. I was a prisoner, stuck inside my own mind – helpless to the dichotomy raging on inside.

I wondered how long this was going to go on for. I didn't have any memory of when the agony had started – one minute I was lying down, someone's (I couldn't remember who) cool skin on mine; the next, I was clawing at my own flesh and feeling the fire of a thousand suns hit me en masse. There was no use in trying to look for a clock, or ask whoever might be nearby for an estimation on how long this pain was to last. My vision was still shrouded in darkness, and I was still too panicked and aggrieved to form coherent speech. My only hope now was Edward.

I'd tried many times to get his attention, in any way I knew possible, so that he could soothe my burning skin with his cool. All my attempts had been in vain, because no matter how many times I opened my mouth to call him, a scream had replaced any words I could have uttered.

But I was determined to get some sort of relief. The pain had risen to the point that I thought I was going to pass out, and had become unbearable once I'd felt my heart hardening. So in desperation, I screamed shrilly, louder than I'd ever screamed before. Immediately, I smelt the air for any trace of him nearby; nothing. Doggedly, I tried again, this time adding his name onto the end.

It worked. I could smell him moving around, possibly getting up – I wasn't entirely sure – or maybe he was just adjusting his seating position, if he was seated at all. For the thousandth time, I cursed the darkness covering my eyes.

Much to my delight, though, I could sense him coming closer, his scent invading my senses and distilling the pain temporarily. Within seconds, it seemed, he was next to me, speaking words so fast that even with my improved hearing I could not catch them. The burning in my throat had begun again, and this made it very difficult to speak, and no matter how hard I tried I could never properly convey what it was I wanted him to do. Finally, after much confusion on Edward's behalf and much screaming and whimpering on mine, I managed to gasp:

"E–Edward..._fire_...t–touch m–..._ice_..."

And then I felt his skin. Such relief! Such wonderful, soothing relief! It was better than I imagined. He trailed his hands lightly along my arms, my face, my shoulders and neck. Everywhere his fingers touched literally put out the fire; such was the temperature of his hands. I could hear my screams faltering, feel my muscles relaxing and the pain subsiding – the latter only lasting for a few seconds. But I didn't care how long it lasted. This was more than enough.

And when I finally gave out and began whimpering once again, and Edward's lips were immediately at my ear, whispering words of comfort – I let my mind wander.

Edward, fire, burning, heart, darkness, ice, Edward, fire, ice...


	4. Day 3: Vampire

It was nearing evening. There were but four hours of Bella's change left, and it was only occurring to me then that she would be a vampire. I'd known it all along, of course, but the reality of the situation was only dawning on me now, in the dark corner of my living room, with my back ramrod straight against the wall, each of Bella's screams oppressive and yet completely indispensable. Yes, in precisely three hours and fifty-two minutes, Bella would be a vampire.

She didn't_ look_ dead. Far, far from it; her veins strained, prominent against her skin, and from afar it almost looked as if there was still blood running through her veins; her skin was still as pale as it had been before, and even some of the pink in her cheeks had remained; her bodily movements –the incessant thrashing, clawing, writhing – certainly didn't suggest that her life had in any way ended; and with each tortured scream that ripped through her chest, my skin prickled and I doubted my conviction of her death.

But the one thing that kept me coming back to the fact that Bella really was dead, the one thing that I simply could not deny – I could no longer hear her heartbeat.

It was futile to try and convince myself otherwise. Bella's life would officially end in three hours and thirty-six minutes, and I had killed her. It was _my_ bite, _my_ venom, _my_ doing. I couldn't help but feel dizzy at the thought of it.

But it was what she had wanted. Bella was the one that had requested to be turned into a vampire, and asked that I would be the one to do it – and we had made a deal. There was really nothing to feel guilty of, and yet...

I heard Carlisle call my name mentally, informing me that he would be disappearing upstairs for quite a while, so that he could prepare blood for Bella once the change had been completed. Nothing to worry about, he said soothingly. She'll need sustenance the moment she's changed, and I really do think it's best if she gets it from me instead of hunting right away. Shouldn't take too long. Only a few more hours left, now, Edward. She'll be alright. Did you hear me, Edward?

I wasn't listening.

_____________________________**************____________________________

There was but a half hour left. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and Bella's screams seemed to have amplified, as had Jasper's. The final moments of the change were always the worst, and Bella's case was no different. Her screams had become one continuous ringing, and combined with Jasper's the noise escalated to a shrill cacophony of agony. She had bruises all over her body, dotting her back and arms, like dull flowers of the deepest purple sprouting all over her flesh; her hands in particular no longer held any of their original colour. Evidence of her growing strength was all over the couch, each jagged chunk that was ripped out of it and thrown about becoming Bella's own personal, horrific signature.

I remained sitting, rigid and terse with my eyes glued to her form. My family had resumed movement and I'd vaguely registered them stirring around me. Esme was pacing back and forth, her hand clamped around her mouth, Carlisle was still upstairs, Emmett rocked back and forth on his heels, looking more possessed than anything else and Rosalie had not returned to the room. The only one that had not moved once was Alice, who remained sitting on her chair, lips pressed into a thin line and one, tiny hand resting upon Jasper's shuddering body. I couldn't summon the strength to feel sorry for him at the moment.

I glanced at the clock – fifteen minutes left now. My patience was wearing thin, and all I could think of now was for the change to be over; Bella would stop screaming, as would Jasper, her pain would end, and there would be utter peace. My mind swirled and the time seemed to stretch on forever – I needed a distraction. To clear my mind, I turned my attention to the clock's second hand, watching it tick around, past the numbers in agonisingly slow lulls. I stared it for what seemed like hours, exploring every particle of dust, every pigment of colour I could see on the clock hand, admiring prisms of light that drifted over it, streaks of hue splitting in them at arbitrary intervals.

A hand on my shoulder wrenched me out of my reverie. I didn't need to look to know that it was Carlisle. Evidently, he had returned from his venture upstairs, and, sure enough, I saw the cup in his hand, its crimson contents swirling rapidly. The smell aroused my senses, but after having tasted Bella's blood, it seemed oddly repulsive to me. I said nothing and hoped that Carlisle would do the same, so I could go back to gazing at the clock – but before long I heard his warm thoughts invading my mind.

_Not long now, Edward. Only five minutes and then this will all be over._

I checked the clock to make sure he wasn't exaggerating. He was right – the minute hand had halted tauntingly close to where I wanted it to be. I sighed wearily, though I could not be tired, and turned my attention once again to the screaming girl on the couch.

Bella's condition had escalated in the last ten minutes. The sofa was indistinguishable, as even more chunks had been ripped out from it and strewn all over the floor. Her screaming sounded more like tormented crying than wails of pain, and each one sent fresh termors down my spine and to my core. The clock became an intrusive ticking in the background, fighting to gain dominance amongst Bella's screams and remind me constantly that there was just less than two minutes left. I felt the hairs on my neck prickle up as every fibre of my being anticipated the culmination of this damned change. The atmosphere was thick, the tension palpable, and everyone seemed to know it. My family had stopped moving and all their eyes were rooted to Bella, writhing and screaming as the venom penetrated her heart and launched its final attack.

The second hand crawled over one, last time.

And Bella stopped.

I could still hear her screams in my ears, hear them echoing everywhere around me, reverberating off the walls – a ghost of what was before. I unclenched my fists for the first time in three days, and felt all the tension inside my body release. Great, surging relief swept through me and I realised that it was over. Bella was a vampire. Shakily, I crawled to her side.

Her eyes were still open, but she didn't appear to have noticed me. She lay completely still, arms by her sides, hands relaxed, her face shockingly white and inhuman. She seemed exactly the same, only this time her beauty was so overwhelming I ceased to breathe momentarily. She appeared to be dead – dead in the conventional sense. She made no sound, no movement; she wasn't even breathing. For a moment, I wondered if something had gone wrong during the change, something fatal beyond what was originally intended, and the hairs on my neck stood on end once again. Slowly, hesitantly, I touched her cheek with one finger.

She wrenched upright, and gasped, as if breathing for the first time. I jerked my hand away immediately, faintly startled by her abrupt movement; but I was relieved. She panted heavily, drawing great breaths into her lungs, though she didn't need it. Her hair fell in waves across her shoulders, and she lifted a hand to brush them away, looking down, and her eyes moving frantically from side to side – as if she was scared. I remained sitting, watching her in awe and not breathing. I needed to know if she was okay, but I didn't want to scare her any more than she apparently already was.

Tentatively, I said, "Bella?"

Her head rose slowly to level with mine. She stared, completely stoic and doe-eyed, her crimson irises boring into mine in a way I never knew possible before. She held me with her gaze, and I waited for her to say something.

A crease marred her forehead, and I watched as her eyes narrowed and she squinted, as if she couldn't see me properly. Her lower lip was trembling, as if in fear, and I felt instantly worried. What could she be afraid of? I wanted to say something else, something comforting, but at that moment Bella spoke, and rendered me utterly speechless.

"Who are you?"


	5. Confusion

"Bella?"

The sound of my name alerted me. I'd been staring into nothingness for a while, feeling as if I'd just woken from a deep sleep, and I felt dizzy. I raised my head, grateful that it didn't feel stiff, and looked in the direction of the voice.

It was a boy. I gasped once I saw him, had taken in the bronze hair and the piercing golden eyes. He was shockingly pale, his skin with an appearance of marble, his features soft, yet angular. Despite the inhuman beauty, the sweet clarity with which he'd said my name, I knew he was just a boy.

Or was he? He'd known my name, yet as I stared at his beautiful face I realised I couldn't recall his. He wasn't the slightest bit familiar to me, and yet he was looking at me now as if he'd known me since childhood.

Why was he here, then? Why was he sitting in front of me, looking curiously expectant and almost afraid? I stared at him, looked into his eyes and felt fear, panic and awe all at the same time. His eyes, golden as the sun, with the appearance of melted honey or butterscotch, mesmerised me; I couldn't look away, though I wanted to. He frightened me, beautiful though he was, and the desire to know what in the world was going on increased.

I wanted to tell him just how beautiful I thought he was. Frowning, I gazed into his eyes, looking deeper and deeper until I felt I was drowning in them. My lower lip trembled involuntarily, and I realised I was more scared of his silence than anything else. I was about to tell him how lovely I thought he was, but quickly changed my mind and blurted out a very dazed, "Who are you?"

The boy's eyes widened when I said those words. Complete and utter shock marred his features then, seeping into every line and crease on his face, the wrinkles near his eyes, his mouth, his lips, making him seem decades older. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished; his features regained their usual youth and beauty, and his expression was one of hard confusion. The only reminder of this shock; a slight frown that remained knitting his eyebrows together, dipping deep into his forehead like the tracks of a railroad. My own eyes widened, and I felt horrified. Had I caused him to feel such shock, such pain? If only I'd never opened my mouth.

It was then that I noticed the presence of five others in the room. Three were female, the rest male; they were all alike. Perhaps they were a family? It seemed a plausible idea – all of their gorgeous features, their angular chins and flawless skin and ochre eyes were all identical. I was nearly overwhelmed by the amount of beauty in the room. I stared at each of them, noticing how close in proximity they seemed to me. One was leaning against a wall, his burly muscles poking out from underneath a white shirt, curly black hair contrasting beautifully with his skin, and yet it seemed as though he was right next to me. I could see every tiny, almost glistening, pore in his skin, the thousands of fibres binding just one strand of his hair, the circular discs that made up his iris. I could see every particle of dust that had gathered on his clothes, and the stray ones that had blown away when he moved, now dancing around in the dim light. I could _hear _his breathing, slow and almost unwilling, resonating in my ears. I knew the exact decibels of each inhale and exhale he made, and I knew how long each breath took to come in and out of his lungs. All of this information petrified me.

I still continued to stare at the muscular man, he, staring right back, when the bronze haired boy that had first talked, spoke again.

"Don't you remember me, Bella? It's Edward."

Edward. What a lovely name that was. A tiny prickling sensation ran up my spine when he'd said my name, although I was more accustomed to hearing it from him than I was before. He looked at me expectantly with his eyebrows raised just a fraction, obviously waiting for me to say something. Panic seized me again, but this time because I had absolutely no idea what to say. Clearly he expected me to say something particular, something that would reassure him that I knew who he was – but I didn't. I was sure I'd never seen him before in my life.

"Edward..." I said absently, taking a little too much enjoyment out of saying his name. I frowned again, my lip trembling a little, and I could see the hope in his eyes. It almost pained me to say, "I don't know who you are."

Edward's breath hitched, and I heard it. He clenched his fists, causing more miniscule particles of dust to go flying in all directions. I saw each one, twirling in a dizzying spiral, as if in a turmoil of indecision, before finally dissipating into the air, drifting away as if floating on a cloud.

"Do...do you..." Edward said quietly, his voice cracking as if from pain, "do you remember _anything? _Who any of us are? Where you are?"

I looked about the room, feeling the panic and fear grasp me again. I gazed at the five stunning people standing around the edges of the room, trying to find anything familiar in their countenances. The room itself was alien and unfamiliar; I saw nothing recognisable in the high ceiling, the polished wood floors, the large sofa situated in the middle of the room, big, gorging chunks of it strewn about on the floor. Nothing at all came to me, and the panic grew. Was I supposed to know who these people were? Was I supposed to know where I was? Not knowing scared me.

"No..." I replied slowly, my gaze slowly returning to Edward, "I don't recognise any of this." My voice grew high and shrill, yet graceful and airy, like the chimes of an instrument; it didn't sound like me. As I kept speaking, Edward's eyes scrunched shut, and he took several deep breaths, as if praying for strength. The little crease in this forehead deepened, much like the time I'd asked who he was. He puzzled me further, and I wanted answers. "Why...why can't I recognise anything? I mean, wh–what have you done to me?"

I breathed heavily, my mind buzzing frantically, with more speed that I ever imagined was possible. No-one answered my demand; no-one even made a sound. I grew steadily more frantic, and I could feel my confusion rising to an insurmountable high. Edward's silence angered me, too; I needed answers.

"Where am I? Did you bring me here?" I demanded again in that shrill, breathy voice, so unlike myself. At this, one of the females, a sightly older looking woman, moved closer to me, taking a few steps until she was by Edward's side. As she moved, half of her body was illuminated in light and I was shocked to see her skin sparkling. I could see each pore, glittering like a thousand diamonds had been embedded into her skin. I saw each one, each thin shaft of light refracting inside the uncut prisms, bouncing back into the air as if her body was a mirror. The room spun, and I became dizzy. I seized tufts of my hair and staggered, overwhelmed by everything I could see and hear. I gasped, panting heavily as I struggled to regain equanimity. Breathlessly, I said, as if to myself, "I can see everything...you're so beautiful, all of you, and I can see _into you_...it's like diamonds." I drew deep breaths, even though I felt I didn't need them, and stared at Edward until the dizziness subsided. The sight of him, staring at me with tight eyes, looking as though he knew something I did not, made me incensed. I cried, "Wh–Why can't I remember anything? Am I supposed to know who you are? Why...why aren't you saying anything? Why..."

"Bella."

The sound of his voice silenced me. I let go of my hair and looked him straight in the eye, waiting. His fists were still clenched, and I could see the pain in his eyes that remained locked to mine. I daren't say a word.

"Do you know who I am?"

Again, that question. It was as if he needed to keep asking me, needed to keep trying to make me remember who he was. I saw how much it hurt him when I didn't recognise him, and I hated to cause the angel pain – but I couldn't lie.

I shook my head. "No."

I might as well have torn his heart out.

One tenth of a second later (it scared me that I knew the exact time period), footsteps were heard on the staircase that was just visible behind the wall. Instantly, my ears perked and I was alert, listening closely in order to decipher who it was. Perhaps I would know this person? Their footsteps were slightly uneven, the left foot stepping heavier than the right. It was a man. I could hear his long trousers brushing against the timber staircase.

He emerged into view, and I saw that he was just a beautiful as the others. He had short, honey blonde hair, and he wore a slight smile as he walked lightly towards the group. In his hand was a cup.

A breeze wafted through an open window then, and several things happened simultaneously. The air wafted towards me, and several stenches hit me en masse. Flowers, trees, freshly turned earth, the perfumed smell of skin and hair all mixed together in a cocktail of fragrance. But there was another smell, one robust and almost bitter. It was blood.

I didn't have time to wonder why I was smelling blood all of a sudden. As soon as I'd inhaled (unnecessarily, once again), something had stirred inside of me, dredging up feelings and desires I never knew I'd possessed. Akin to hunger, but with a slightly more ferocious edge, it overwhelmed me and created a burning sensation in my throat. In spite of my fear at what was happening to me, I took a step forward without thinking, towards the man with the cup. And then, like the pieces of a jigsaw, it all came together.

There was blood in the cup.

And I wanted it.

He advanced further, coming closer and closer until the smell of it enveloped me. Disgusted with myself, I tried to push the hunger down, rid myself of the burning in my throat. It came easier than I thought it would. Now petrified, I retreated a few steps and hugged my arms, as if I was cold, though I wasn't.

The man looked up, and smiled at me.

"Drink this, Bella," he said.

Revulsion hit me like a stampede. The burn I'd felt before sprung up again, but this time I pushed it away with more force than ever. Blood! He wanted me to _drink blood! _Fear like I'd never felt before gripped me and I drew my arms tighter around myself. Who _were _these people?

"D–Drink it?" I gasped incredulously. The room began to spin again. "You...want me to..."

"Carlisle."

It was Edward's voice again, but this time he wasn't addressing me. It seemed he was talking to the blonde man with the cup. His voice sounded distant and muffled, as if my ears had been stuffed with wool and I was struggling to hear through the fibres. The two began a conversation, their tones low and serious.

"She's a newborn, Edward, I don't under–"

"Didn't you hear? She has no idea who any of us are, where she is; nothing."

"My God..."

_What were they talking about? _My mind spun with questions, and I suddenly found it very hard to form coherent speech.

"What – I don't understand..." I gasped, over and over.

It was then that the man – Carlisle, as Edward had called him – advanced towards me, his hand slightly outstretched. He was offering me the blood. Nauseated, I recoiled and stumbled backwards, though I did not lose my balance as I expected to. I seized my hair, as if trying to clutch at rational thought and reason. I looked at each one of the people in the room, and found that they all had the same expression – worry. Carlisle still walked towards me.

"Blood...who are you – _Freaks_!" I cried breathlessly.

And with that, I turned and ran. I did not look back.

_____________________________**************____________________________

I hugged my arms, though I didn't feel cold. I didn't really feel anything anymore. I could tell it was just less than twenty degrees Celsius; that the biting wind was coming from the northwest, and that the frost gathering on the sides of the roads was three millimetres thick. I hadn't the faintest idea how I knew all of this information. I simply looked at something, glimpsed it in my peripheral vision, smelled it in the air or heard it resonating in my ears – and I knew everything, instantly.

I walked along the side of a road, which one I didn't know, aimlessly wondering where I should go. My feet felt light, the moss underneath them springy and soft, and yet I was uncomfortable. It was as if I was consciously restraining myself from walking at a faster pace, like running. My feet were small and tight, as if my skin had shrunk and all the muscles, bones, tissue inside were trying to push their way through and break free of discomfort. These feelings, these impulses, scared me, and as much as I wanted to rid myself of all inhibitions and run, I wanted more to disobey them. So I continued walking uncomfortably, listening to the steady thrum of car's engines and the distant chatter of parents and their children.

To say I was trudging along a grassy roadside, with trees on my left side, the misty fog pressing down like a soft pillow, the smell of pine and dense foliage mixing with the heavy fumes spewing out from every vehicle that sped past – was too benign an explanation. In fact I was gracefully loping, the tightness in my feet giving me the impression I was floating; a thick cocktail of smells drifted into my awareness – the woody perfume of the trees, the musk and sweat of a herd of deer grazing a few kilometres away; I could see every crystal of frost speckled on the glossy bitumen, see the people in the cars that drove past, their heads turning extremely to stare at me.

Two figures in the distance caught my eye. I slowed my pace even more, watching them curiously, cautiously. It was a woman and her young son getting out of their car, crossing a gravel path and walking towards a small shop. The boy, as far as I could infer, was around five or six years old. He clung to his mother's arm, swinging from it playfully and shrieking whenever he nearly tumbled over onto the ground. His mother merely chuckled whenever he did this, and he looked up at her with equal mirth, grinning hugely. I couldn't help but smile myself at the sight of it – this delightful little boy, without a care in the world, grinning mischievously with his brown hair moving graciously with the wind. I stopped walking completely now, taking a few steps forward in order to watch them more closely. It struck me how much the little boy resembled Edward – his hair, that wonderful bronze colour; his eyes, though not golden, had that same twinkle that I'd seen in Edward's; even their smiles seemed identical.

I shook my head, forcing myself not to focus on _him. He _was nothing to me.

I returned my attention to the child, who had now broken free of his mother's hold and was skipping in front of her; his mother looked on with concern. I could hear him calling out to her, shrieking some trivial, childish remark, which his mother responded to wearily.

"Mummy! Mummy, see what I'm doing here?"

"It's wonderful, darling. Careful, now..."

The boy nodded happily, still skipping. I heard the gravel crunching underneath his tiny feet, his happy giggles between each quick breath. And then I heard the loud scraping of gravel flying upwards, the terrified shriek of the boy, and then the simultaneous slam of gravel on gravel as he tripped and fell.

"My God. Darling, are you alright?" His mother rushed forward, the concern in her voice prominent.

"It hurts, mummy!"

"Let's have a look, then. Did you hurt your hands?"

"Yes. I fell over, mummy..."

And he began to cry. My brow furrowed, and I had an overwhelming urge to rush over and help him, soothe his cries. But then I smelt his blood.

Out from the shallow scrapes on his palms wafted a scent so wonderful, rich, and robust that, to my surprise, a low growl escaped my lips. I was shocked that I could have produced such a sound, but all other emotions were then blocked out by relentless, devastating desire. Fear combined with my yearning as I felt the flame rise in my throat, strikingly reminiscent of the sensation I'd felt back at that strange house. Another growl ripped through my chest, and I took several steps forward. I was shocked again as I realised that I wanted to kill the boy – and not just kill him. I wanted his blood.

I envisioned it all with perfect clarity: I would `cross the road without worrying about cars – somehow I knew they couldn't harm me. I would reach the son and his fussy mother, and inquire as to what had happened. Taken a fall, have you, sweetie? May I have a look at it? His mother would thank me graciously for my concern – it would only take a second to break her neck and move onto the boy. He wouldn't have time to scream, let alone protest. Perhaps I would kill him before I drank, perhaps not; the blood would surely be warmer if he was alive. I would suck his veins dry in a matter of minutes, and then, if I so desired, I would move onto the mother. Anyone who saw what I was doing would be eliminated...

A strong gust of wind blew from the east, sending the smell away from me. The sudden shift brought new, unappealing smells to my attention; animal dung, melting frost, mould on a tree trunk. And in a moment of clarity, the burn subsided. My fantasy ceased, and in place of the desire, there was disgust – utter, shameful and gut-wrenching disgust. _What had I been thinking?_ Just as before, back at _his _house, I felt the surge of fear and despair at the desires I had experienced, what my intentions were. I didn't want to kill this boy, and I sure as hell didn't want to drink his blood. Now extremely afraid of myself, I shrunk back into the forest that was now behind me, fearful that I would regress and the desires would spring up again. I stumbled back into the trees, leaning against a narrow pine, and fell to my knees.

Wave after wave of misery washed over me, burying me in hopelessness so acute that even my vision clouded and dimmed; there was no light at the end of the tunnel. My shoulders began to shake and I could feel the familiar sensation building behind my eyes that indicated I was about to cry. But there was no overflowing moisture as I expected there to be. Nothing, not even a drop seeped from my eyes, even as I continued to shake and be evermore overcome by despair. Something was very wrong with me, with my body, and as I registered this fact the quivering became even more severe. I choked and gasped and spluttered, clutching at my arms and hair, not caring what passers by might think if they saw me. Great, shuddering tremors wrenched my entire being, sending spasms through my whole body and pushing me still deeper into the dirt and rotten leaves that covered the ground. I no longer cared about the little boy and his mother. All I knew now was that I had absolutely no idea where I was, what I was doing, or even what I was. I had no recollection of people who claimed to know me (better than I knew myself, it seemed), and who drank blood, with glittering skin and exquisite beauty... I was lost – in every sense of the word.

But there was one thing I was sure of, one thing I remembered. It came to me then, sudden and unexpected, yet so very simple. I wondered why I hadn't thought of it all along.

His name came to me easily, with perfect clarity. Its resonance diminished my fears, my shocking and devastating grief. Slowly, I got to my feet, brushing leaves from my clothes and picking at a clump of matted dirt in my hair while I walked forwards. I strode with defiance, with purpose, and now all that bothered me was hoping that I remembered how to reach his home. But I continued regardless, in that slow, uncomfortable pace, content with the tightness in my feet and the impatience in my stride. As I walked I envisioned him; what he would say, how he would look, what he would do. He would make it all better.

Jacob.

**Author's Note: Hi! Just a few words on this chapter - the idea for Bella losing her memory after being changed into a vampire appealed to me, not only because it provided a great storyline, but because I thought it would be pretty funny if - since Bella was always afraid that one day she would wake up and the Cullens wouldn't exist, or that they would disappear etc etc - Bella would actually 'wake up' one day and not remember a thing about them or their species. So, ha ha for me! =D Cheers.**


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